























































HIGH IN THE MOUNTAINS 

Robi and Hanni in the Swiss Alps 


Written and Pictured by 

EMMA BROCK 



JUNIOR PRESS BOOKS 

albertXwh itman 

^ 4 CO 
CHICAGO 
1938 


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Lithographed in U.S.A. 

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M AY -2 ,938 











CONTENTS 


The Secret.5 

Up to the Mountains .... 12 

On the Alp.19 

The Brown Purse.33 

The Goatherd.46 

The City of Bears.53 

Down from the Mountains 


71 





























The Village of the Giant's Wood 













THE SECRET 


AND we must not tell any one. Not Grandmother nor 
Grandfather, nor anybody,” said Robi, slapping his 
■*“ hands against his legs. “Not any one at all.” 

“No,” said Hanni, switching her braids back over her shoul¬ 
ders. “Not any one at all. Not even Grandfather or Grand¬ 
mother. It’s a secret.” 

“All summer long we must not tell it,” said Robi. “Not 
until the cows come down from the mountains in the fall.” 

“No,” said Hanni, “it’s a secret.” 

“You’re sure you will not tell? It would spoil everything to 
tell.” 

“Oh, no. I truly won’t. It’s a secret. But could I tell Lisa- 
beteli?” 


5 


“Oh, she’s just a doll. You could tell her. But don’t let 
Grandmother hear you telling her about it. It must be a sur¬ 
prise for everybody.” 

Robi wondered if Hanni could really keep a secret. She 
was only seven years old and her face was still very round and 
plump. Could she keep their secret? 

She must know about it, because Robi needed her help in 
working out the secret. They must both earn all the money they 
could during the summer, so that they would have enough 
money to—well—for the secret. 

“Oh, I won’t tell a soul except Lisabeteli and I’ll whisper it 
to her very quietly. And I can, perhaps, sell some eggs and 
some berries.” 

“And I can, perhaps, weed some gardens and take care of 
some goats or something. And we won’t spend a penny for 
anything.” 

“No,” said Hanni, slapping her legs with her fat hands just 
as Robi did. “No,” she repeated. 

Robi and Hanni were sitting in a corner by the bake oven 
that stood on the side of the mountain by the goat shed. Once 
a week their grandmother baked bread in the oven. She would 
build a fire in the oven and when the stones were heated 
through, she would drag out the red coals and put in the light 
loaves of rye bread. They baked crispy brown. It was the best 
bread anyone could make. 

Robi and Hanni were hidden behind the oven. No one could 
hear them talking there. Hanni wore a checkered apron over 
her bright blue dress and her hair was braided so tightly that 


6 


it stood out in stiff curves over her shoulders. Her hair was the 
color of pale cheese. Robi wore a red shirt and wide brown 
trousers. His hair was not one shade darker than Hanni’s, but 
it was cut short and stood up like stubble. The feet of both were 
bare and they were wiggling their toes in the grass. 

Robi was nine years old and he was feeling very important, 
because the next day he was going with the cows and the goats 
and the cowherds up to the mountains. Every summer the 
cows and the goats were taken to the mountain meadows. They 
went up in May and stayed all summer until snowfall. Robi 
was old enough now to stay up with them for only two or three 
weeks, just while the cows were in the lower pasture. 

When the snows had melted away from the middle pasture 
in June, the cows and the goats and the herd boys would climb 
higher along the mountain path and Robi would go back down 
the mountain to his home above Lake Brienz. Only bigger 
boys and grown-up men could stay all summer with the cows. 





But Robi felt almost grown-up when he thought of going 
with the cows tomorrow. His brother Carl was old enough to 
stay all summer. He was a big boy fourteen years old and he 
would help guard the cows in their mountain pastures. When 
he came down in the fall, he would be given some cheese to 
sell. Then he would have some silver francs to put away in 
his savings box. He kept the box hidden in the corner of the 
shelf in the cow house at home. 

He was saving up his money to go to the carving school at 
Brienz, the Wooden Village. They called the village by that 
name because so many wood carvers lived there. They carved 
out of wood little figures of people and of animals and little 
chalets or houses like the one Carl and Robi lived in. They 
also carved clocks and furniture. Carl wanted to learn to carve 
animals very well indeed. He could carve cows now, so that 
they really looked like cows, but he wanted to go to the carv¬ 
ing school at Brienz so that he could learn to carve them even 
better. 

8 




The carving school was a wonderful one. Some of the boys 
learned to carve people. They made carvings of each other and 
of the goatherds and of the old men and women. With their 
round-handled wood carving tools, chip, chip, they cut away 
the wood from a square block. Chip, chip, more here and more 
there, until, see, there was old Chrigel, the goatherd, or old 
Gritli, his wife. Some of the boys carved animals—goats and 
kids and birds and the wild chamoix that climbed the moun¬ 
tain rocks. They went to the zoo and carved the animals there. 
They carved the bears and the lions. 

Carl wanted very much to go to the school. He wanted to 
carve more than anything else in the world. His grandfather 
had told him that when he had earned half of the money for 
the school, he would give him the other half. His grandfather 
was not a rich man. He had a good chalet and a good cow 
house and a goat shed and a bake oven, but he had only four 
cows and so was not very rich. 










Some of the people living in that valley had many more 
cows than that and many more valley meadows to grow hay to 
feed the cows in the winter time. But as Carl’s grandfather had 
only four cows, he was not rich enough to pay all the money 
for the carving school. Carl must pay part of it. 

Now Robi wanted to earn money, too, for the secret and 
Hanni would help him, if she could just keep from telling about 
it. 

“Perhaps I can earn a little when I am up in the mountains 
with the cows. Perhaps I can,” said Robi. 

Hanni nodded her head. 

“Perhaps the hens will lay a lot of eggs,” said she, “big 
baskets full.” 

“Alli-hoh-hoh-hoh!” some one called from the chalet. 

“The grandmother is calling,” said Robi. “Now don’t tell the 
secret.” 

“Oh, I won’t,” said Hanni. She put her fat hand tightly over 
her mouth and began to tiptoe toward the house. She was all 
giggly with the secret and her shoulders were heaving up and 
down under her stiff braids. 

“Oh, the secret sticks out all over her,” said Robi. “Grand¬ 
mother will guess in a minute.” 

Hanni went giggling into the house. She looked out of the 
top of her eyes over her fat hand that was still holding her 
mouth shut to keep in the giggles. 

“Whatever is the matter with Hanni?” asked Grandmother. 

Hanni turned her back and ducked her face into both hands. 

“What is the matter with her, Robi?” asked Grandmother. 


10 


“ Oh, Grandmother,” cried Robi, “she has a secret and she 
is trying not to tell it. Please don’t even ask her what the se¬ 
cret is, and don’t you ask her, Grandfather. It is a good se¬ 
cret and you will be glad when you know it in the fall.” 

“Oh, we’ll never ask her,” said Grandmother and Grand¬ 
father in one voice. “We certainly will never ask her one 
word about it. It would not do to spoil a secret.” 

And after Hanni knew that Grandmother and Grandfather 
would never ask about the secret, she stopped giggling and 
turned into a real little girl who was hungry for her supper 
of cheese and milk and rye bread. They all sat around the 
table in the kitchen and drank their milk from round blue 
bowls and no one said a word about the secret. 

After supper Hanni and Lisabeteli went to the corner of the 
bake oven and Lisabeteli heard the secret. And if she, too, was 
giggling about it, she never even showed it. 




UP TO THE MOUNTAINS 

Early the next morning, as soon as it was light, all the peo¬ 
ple of the village came out to see the cows and the goats start 
off for the mountains. 

The village cows had been let out of the cow houses where 
they had been shut up all winter. They had been led into the 
valley meadows and were frisky with excitement. The cows 
were running around and kicking up their heels and lowing at 
every kick. They knew they were going up into the mountains 
to the sweet mountain grass. The calves were jumping about 
because they were young and happy. The cow bells were all 
jangling in big and little jangles. And the goat bells were tin¬ 
kling along with them. 

The strongest and most beautiful cow of all the village had 
a large squarish bell almost as big as her head. This bell hung 


12 







around her neck. It did not tinkle or jangle, but said, “Boom, 
boom,” every step she took. She was the queen or lead cow, 
the one that would lead the other cows up the mountain path 
to the alp. 

The alp was not a mountain. It was a little green meadow 
on the side of a mountain, where the grass was long and sweet. 
Around the alp were the rocks of the mountain. It was from 
these alps in the mountains that the Alps Mountains got their 
name. 

The cows and the goats were ready to go before the herds¬ 
men were. They kept trying to hurry away up the mountain 
path. At last everything was ready. 

“Alli-hoh-hoh-hoh!” yodelled the herdsmen and the proces¬ 
sion started. First went Berli, the big brown cow with her bell 
as big as her head. And then the other cows and the calves fol- 


13 





lowed. All their horns were trimmed with flowers. The cow¬ 
herds in their bright white shirts and their velvet jackets em¬ 
broidered in red went singing along with them. 

Then went the goats jerking over the ground on their stiff 
legs, their eyes bulging as they looked about. And after them 
went the wagons and the donkeys carrying the cheese caldrons 
of copper and the wooden milk pails and the cheese presses and 
the clothes of the herders. 

The cow bells were booming and ringing and the goat bells 
were tinkling and the girls and boys were singing high and low 
the song of the alps: 

“On the green alp, 

In the grassy meadow, 

There go the herdsmen 
In the happy spring!” 

The village people followed along the path after the cows 
and the cowherds. Carl was walking beside his grandfather’s 
cows and Robi was walking with him. Robi had on heavy 
wool socks that his grandmother had knit, and very heavy 
leather shoes that were almost twice as big as his feet. And he 
had a pointed hat on his head. He felt like a real herdsboy, as 
they tramped slowly up the path with the cows. 

Hanni ran after Robi and whispered in his ear, “I’ll never 
tell, never all the time you are gone.” 

“Be sure,” said Robi, setting his alpenstock firmly in the 
stony path. “Be very sure not to.” 

The village people fell back, but the cows and the goats and 
the herdsmen climbed slowly up into the fir forest. The village 
people could hear them singing. The song echoed back and 


14 


forth from the rocks to the pine trees and from the pine trees 
to the lake. It echoed back and forth through the mountains: 


‘Springtime is here, gone is the snow, 

The heavens are blue, the cuckoo is calling, 
For May now is here. 

Allihoh-hoh-hoh! ” 





= - J- t . a ZZ 


-- 0 f - 

3 &- 4 -± 

1 . 

1 


T^- Jj ’ 

g- ..--.J 

=■• y ~'I"— : 


i 


The spring-time is here and isone is the snow, the beaw-em are 


rf f I frN Jl+ 


f ^£=rj 


Hue and the cue- koo is call - \o^, For IT)ay is now here. A\ - i i - 


I 








ho, al-li ho,al-li - ho,al-li-ho, a. - bo'. Ho - Tra-\a¬ 




la, la, U, la, la, bra-la-\a- la, tra-U-la, bra-la-la, la,la,Tr<4> 




SI 




la, bra-la-la, la, bra-la-la, la, tra-la-la, bra-la-' la ! 


“Allihoh-hoh-hoh!” yodelled the cowherds. 
“Allihoh-hoh-hoh!” yodelled the people of the village. 


15 



















































































































The cows climbed slowly up the mountain path past the 
pines. Robi felt proud and grown-up to be going with them. 
He stamped his heavy shoes and clicked the metal end of his 
alpenstock against the stones. 

Sometimes as they climbed, they were in the deep forest and 
could see only the tall trunks of the trees reaching up toward 
the sky. Sometimes the path turned out into the open. Then 
they could look down on the brown roofs of the little village 
of the Giant’s Wood. That was the name of the village where 
Robi and Hanni lived. Robi could see their own gray chalet 
with its green blinds, perched part way up the mountain. He 
could see the big stones on the roof that kept the wind from 
blowing away the shingles. There was a little red spot by the 
bake oven. That was Hanni. Perhaps she was waving at him. 
He waved his big red handkerchief and hoped that she could 
see it. 

The cows and the cowherds climbed the path for a long time. 
The calves and the kids were not frisking any more. They 
were walking carefully as if their legs hurt. The cows stopped 
to drink at the milky white stream that came tumbling down 
over the rocks. It was coming from the melting glacier, the big 
mass of ice far up in the mountains. It was milky from the 
stones ground up by the ice of the glacier. The stream was on 
its way to drop over the rocks of a waterfall into turquoise- 
colored Lake Brienz. 

They climbed up through the forest trees. It was dark and 
cool. Robi’s legs were beginning to feel as shaky as the legs of 
the calves. He leaned heavily on his alpenstock, but he did 


16 
















not tell any one that he was tired. No real herdsboy could ad¬ 
mit that he was tired when he was climbing up with the cows. 

At last when they had walked most of the morning, the cows 
began to lift their heads and spread their nostrils. Wasn’t the 
green alp just ahead of them? 

“We’re almost there,” said Carl. He was a big boy and not 
tired at all, but Robi’s breath was coming in great gasps and his 
knees were going wobblety-wobble every step he took. 

As they turned a corner in the path, they saw an opening in 
the trees, and framed in the opening was a wide green meadow 
sprinkled with wild flowers. It was the alp. 

The cows tossed their heads and hurried their tired feet and 
the calves scampered stiffly with excitement. The herd spread 
out in the meadow. The cows lay down, groaning as they bent 
their stiff legs. They were there. 

Robi lay down too, in the shadow of a log cheese hut, but he 
did not groan. No herdsboy groans. He took off his alpen hat 
and he took off his alpen shoes and he took off his alpen socks 
and spread his tired bare feet out in the cool meadow grass. He 
was there! 







ON THE ALP 

Robi must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew 
it was sunset and the alpen horn was sounding. The cows were 
all standing around chewing their cuds after being milked. They 
seemed perfectly at home. They knew where the drinking 
trough was and they knew where to find the salt for licking. 

It was the hour of vespers. The head herder was blowing the 
music of a psalm on his alpen horn. The song echoed from crag 
to crag. And the herdsmen of other alps belonging to other 
villages took up the song and blew the music on their horns. 
The song echoed from mountain to mountain. 

Robi rubbed his eyes. He felt rather ashamed that he had 
been sleeping. No real cowherd sleeps in the day time. He got 
to his feet and went walking stiffly around like a goat. 

“Well, I could eat some supper,” he said in a loud voice. 
“A little walk like that gives a boy an appetite.” That would 
show them that he was a real cowherd. 


19 










He walked around faster and faster until his legs were lim¬ 
ber again. After his supper of cheese and bread and milk, he 
sat looking around the wide alp. On one side was the forest 
they had climbed through. The tall evergreen trees stood dark 
against the sunset sky. On another side high above the meadow 
rose a rocky mountain wall. He could see a path zigzagging 
upward. 


20 












But that was not the path that the cows would take when 
they had eaten all the grass on this lower alp and gone up to 
the middle pastures. Their path lay across the alp and into an¬ 
other piece of dark forest. Above the trees against the sky were 
the rocks that they could see from their chalet on the hill. They 
were glowing rose and red from the setting sun. They looked as 
if they were transparent and had a light shining from inside. 

On the fourth side of the alp, the ground dropped away far 
down the mountain and Robi could look out over the twin lakes, 
Lake Brienz and Lake Thun. Far below him lay Lake Brienz 
like a big turquoise. On one side was the town of Brienz, the 
Wooden Village. A tiny white steamer was skimming over the 
lake toward his own village that was hidden from him by the 
forest they had come climbing through. The River Aare twist¬ 
ed its way from Lake Brienz into Lake Thun. It was turquoise- 
colored too. Perched on the River Aare was the little city of 
Interlaken. That name means “between the lakes.” Beyond 
Lake Thun were mountains, tall ones. There was the pyramid 
top of the Niesen that people like to climb. It was pink and 
misty in the sunset. 

And that was when Robi fell asleep again. 




It was the cowherd’s horn that wakened him in the morning. 
He was lying on the ground where he had fallen asleep, but 
some one had thrown a heavy alpen cloak over him to keep 
him warm. The stiffness was still in his leg, but he walked as if 
they did not hurt at all. He would never make a herdsboy, if 
he slept all the time! And wasn’t he going to earn money for the 
secret? Robi shook himself and stalked over to Carl. 

Carl was one of the cowboys. He would watch the cows to 
see that they did not wander into the forest or go too close to 
the edge that dropped off down the mountain. The goats were 
herded over on the fringe of the forest where there were bushes 
and other rough things to eat. It was surprising what strange 



things a goat would eat. Plain green grass was not nearly so 
good as berry bushes, they thought. In a few days they would 
be taken far up in the stony pastures above the alp where no 
cow could go. 


22 




“How do you think I could earn some money, Carl?” asked 
Robi. “I need some very much.” 

“What do you need money for?” asked Carl. 

“Oh, it’s a secret,” said Robi. “It is a very special secret not 
to be told to any one, not even Grandmother and Grandfather. 
Only Hanni knows, because she is helping with it. And I’m 
afraid she’ll tell. She’s all bursting with the secret already. 
Don’t ever ask her what it is, will you, Carl?” 

“Oh, I’ll never ask,” said Carl. 

“It would just spoil the secret for any one to know it,” said 
Robi. 

“I’ll never ask her and I won’t even let her tell me,” prom¬ 
ised Carl. “And perhaps the head herder can find something 
for a small herdsboy to do.” 

So they asked the head herder that evening. He pulled his 
beard and looked hard into Robi’s blue eyes with his own blue 
ones. 

“/a, ja (Yes, yes). There might be something.” His voice 
boomed out as loudly as the lead cow’s bell and made Robi 


23 







jump in his shoes. “/a, when we make the cheese, we’ll find 
some work and there could be some silver francs if the work is 
well done.” 

So Robi did chores here and there. He scrubbed the milk 
from the wooden milk pails in the stream that ran down across 
the alp. He scrubbed them shining clean. And he carried them 
to the cowherds who went from cow to cow milking. Their milk¬ 
ing stools were strapped around their waists and they walked 
about with the one leg of the stool sticking out behind like a 
stiff tail, stiffer even than the tail of a goat. 

And when they made the cheese, Robi brought the wood to 
keep the fire going under the huge copper caldron. He was so 
very busy bringing the wood and pushing pieces into the fire, 
that he hardly had time to watch the cheese making. 


24 




The cheese was made in a hut that had only one room and 
an earthen floor. A fireplace stood at one end and a long bench 
at the side. The cheese makers stood by the copper caldron that 
hung from a hook over the burning fire. 















From the wooden milk pails the fresh foaming milk was 
poured into the caldron. The milk was heated slowly over the 
fire. The steam circled over the caldron. At just the right mo¬ 
ment, the cheese makers put in the rennet that was taken from 
a calf’s stomach. This would make the milk curdle. They beat 
the milk with a huge ladle called a “harp.” 

Gradually the lumps of white curds became separated. They 
floated about in the yellowish whey. When the curds had cooked 
long enough, they formed a thick paste which was ladled out 
into a cheesecloth sack. The sackful of cheese was put into a 
round wooden mould that was sitting on the bench along the 
wall. 

Then the cover was put on and the press was clamped down 
on the mould to press out the liquid from the curds. The press 
was clamped more and more tightly on the mould until all the 
liquid had drained off. Then the big round cheese was put away 
in salt to “cure.” It was stored in the cheese huts on the lower 
alp. 

And Robi kept the curds cooking by putting pieces of wood 
under the copper caldron. He did it very well and he never let 
the fire go out. 

“You are a good cheese boy,” the head herder roared at 
Robi. “Just wait until you have a few more inches and you will 
be making cheese yourself up here.” 

Robi grew so pink in the face that his hair looked lighter 
than ever. It looked almost as white as the creamy curds of the 
cheese. He was a pretty good herdsboy, he thought. 

At last the cows had eaten all the grass in the lower alp. It 


26 


was June now and time to climb higher into the mountains. 
The snows would be melted away so that the grass in the mid¬ 
dle pasture would be ready for grazing. The herdsmen packed 
up their caldrons and their cheese presses and their clothes and 
things and climbed on up through the pine forest following the 
loud ringing of Berli’s bell. 



Carl and Robi did not go with the others that day. They 
were going down to the Village of the Giant’s Wood. Carl had 
strapped to his back a flat can of cream that he was to carry 
down to the village. He would go back up the mountain that 
afternoon with letters and things for the cowherds. Robi had 
the silver francs that he had earned carefully packed in the bot¬ 
tommost corner of his knapsack. 


27 



They tramped slowly down through the evergreen forest. 
There were forget-me-nots and daisies along the way. Robi 
could hear the cuckoo calling, “Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo.” It 
was a real bird, not a clock. 

“It will be easier going down,” thought Robi. “I won’t get 
out of breath.” 

No, he was not out of breath, but things were happening to 
his legs. They were quivering. His knees bent under him when 
he was not expecting it. His alpenstock slipped on the stones. 
Carl just kept crunching slowly down the path in his huge 
alpen shoes. He was a big boy and he did not get tired. 

“Perhaps we could have a drink at the stream,” said Robi, 
hoping his knees would not fall apart. 

So they stopped by the stream and Robi knelt on the stones 




They tramped slowly down through the evergreen forest 


4 ^ 





































and drank from his hand. Carl sat there for a long time and 
Robi lay in the grass and rested his knees. 

“Shall we go on?” asked Carl. 

“Oh, yes,” cried Robi. “I am all ready,” and he went stiffly 
on down the mountain path. 

It was noontime when they at last reached the village. 
Hanni was waiting for them by the bake oven, for she had seen 
them coming. She put her fat hand over her mouth when she 
saw Carl. 

But Carl said, “Hello, little one,” and did not ask why she 
was holding her hand over her mouth that way. He just said, 
“Hello, little one,” and went on toward the house. 

“Oh, Robi,” Hanni whispered as soon as Carl had gone. “I 
have so many francs and pennies for the secret. And oh, Robi, 
I told Grigga. Was that bad?” 

“Oh, Grigga is just a goat,” said Robi. “She won’t tell. But 
don’t let any one hear you talking about it to her.” 

“No!” said Hanni. “I will get the money.” 

Hanni ran over to the goat shed and reached up on a shelf 
and took down an old brown pocketbook. 

“Oh, but Hanni,” said Robi, “perhaps we could keep it 
somewhere else. That Grigga might get the idea of eating it, 
money and all.” 

“But I told her what it is,” said Hanni. 

“Even then she might eat it. She’s only a goat and goats 
eat everything. Perhaps we could find a place for it in the 
house. And just look at what I have.” 

Robi dug down into the bottommost corner of his knapsack 


30 



and pulled out the silver francs that the head herder had given 
him. Hanni took them and tucked them into the purse. They 
made a pleasant jingling like little goat bells. 

“Perhaps we could hide it in—oh, where?” asked Robi. 

“On top of the stove in the living room,” said Hanni, “in 
our secret comer.” 

So they crept into the living room and climbed up on the 
huge green tile stove. Even in the wintertime when the fire 
was burning in the stove, Robi and Hanni could climb up on 
the stove. The stove was not too hot, but just warm and com¬ 
fortable. 


31 





















They tucked the purse safely into the corner. They shut the 
door of the living room softly and went into the kitchen for 
dinner. There was bread and potatoes and milk and soup and, 
best of all, pancakes for dessert to celebrate the homecoming 
of the new herdsboy. Robi forgot his tired knees as he sprin¬ 
kled brown sugar on the pancakes. 





THE BROWN PURSE 

Hanni had some nickel pieces and some copper pennies in 
the old purse and even three silver francs. She had taken care 
of Freda’s baby when Freda had gone to Interlaken. She had 
found a new nest in the hay loft of the cow house and Grand¬ 
mother said she could have the money if she sold the eggs. 
She had gone down to the village to buy some yarn for old 
Frau Seller. And she did a great many other things that 
brought in the francs and coppers. 

Now the wild strawberries were ripe. The afternoon that 
Robi came home Hanni took a little basket and filled it with 
cool lettuce leaves. Then she went up along the path to gather 
strawberries. They were small and red and pointed. Hanni 


33 






tasted one of them to be sure that it was good. It was good. 

She picked only the red ones and left the others to ripen. 
Hanni stooped over the little plants. The sun was warm. The 
stray hair around her face was wet against her forehead. She 
held the basket in the shadow of her skirt to keep the berries 
cool while she picked. 

Before long the basket was full. She covered it over with 
daisy blossoms and forget-me-nots and went down the hill to 
the inn where two American ladies were staying. They liked 
the wild strawberries better than the big berries that grew in 
gardens. 

Guten tag (Good day),” said Hanni to the American ladies 
who were sitting under a striped umbrella in the rose garden 
of the inn. 

“Oh, wild strawberries!” cried the American ladies. “And 
think of the cream the boy brought down from the alp this 
morning to eat with them.” 

“That was my brother Carl. My name is Hanni. We live 
m that chalet half way up the hill. And there is a secret, but 
I can’t tell it. Robi and I are saving money for it.” 




“These are so good,” said the American ladies, nibbling at 
the strawberries. “Couldn’t you bring some every day, or as 
often as there are enough?” 

“Oh, yes,” said Hanni, “whenever there are ripe ones, I will 
gladly bring you some.” 

When she took the silver half-franc that one of the ladies 
gave her, Hanni’s eyes seemed as blue and almost as big as 
Lake Brienz. 


35 




“Thank you,” she said, bobbing her stiff yellow braids. 

And while the strawberries were ripening along the moun¬ 
tain paths, she brought more basketsful to the American ladies 
and there were more silver half-francs. 

The old frau who kept the inn one day said to Hanni, 
couldn’t she, perhaps, weed in the vegetable garden a little each 
day? Her old knees were getting stiff, she said, and she did 
not like to kneel down. Oh, yes, she could, Hanni said. She 
knew weeds from lettuce any day. 

So Hanni weeded the old frau’s garden, all around the let¬ 
tuce and the radishes and the potatoes and around the beans that 
climbed up the poles. And there were more coppers and 
nickels for the old brown purse. 




Hanni was so busy that she did not have time to tell se¬ 
crets to any one. She fed her grandmother’s chickens and wa¬ 
tered the pink geraniums in the bright green window boxes 
that stood on all the window sills of the chalet. And she helped 
her grandmother polish the copper pans and kettles in the 
kitchen until they were dazzling bright. If she did it all very 
well, her grandmother said, there might be a franc or two for 
her after a while. 

June passed by. Hanni’s face was so sunburned that it was 
much darker than her hair, and her hands and feet were browner 
yet. The coins in the old purse made a loud jingling. 

While Hanni was doing all these things, Robi was doing 
other things and was just as busy. His work at home was to 
weed their little square garden where the cabbages and the 


37 






beans and the potatoes grew, and to bring in the wood for his 
grandmother to burn in the kitchen stove. The wood was 
stacked in long piles under the wide eaves of the chalet. It 
had been cut in the forest the winter before and brought down 
in the early spring, and piled under the eaves. 

Robi also helped his grandfather with the haying. They 
went haying in the fields that slanted down toward the lake. 
Grandfather swung the scythe swishing through the hay. He 
wore a white apron tied around his waist. With a long-handled 
rake Robi spread the hay out on the ground to dry. When the 


38 



hay was dry Grandfather would tie it up in big bundles. Then 
he would pull a corner of the apron up over his head. The cor¬ 
ner was made like a hood and would keep the hay from falling 
down his neck and tickling him. Then he would balance the 
huge bundle of hay on his shoulders and trudge off to the cow 
house with it. 

When they cut the sweet wild hay in the fields high up on 
the mountain side overhanging the valley, they wore boots with 
long spikes in them to keep them from slipping. The hay was 
dried in the high fields and stacked in sheltered places. Then 
when the first snow fell, it would be brought down the moun¬ 
tain on big sleds. Grandfather would stack the hay in the loft 
of the cow house. 

Robi was a great help to him, Grandfather said. They would 
cut hay twice more in those meadows and he thought perhaps 



he would have to give Robi a franc or two for being such a help. 

When the first hay crop was gathered, Robi needed a new 
job and one came right along. Old Herr Biner said he needed 
the hay in his valley meadow. Could Robi just take Herr 
Biner’s old cow up to the mountain meadow a bit for grazing 
and bring her home at night? She was too old to go up with 
the other cows to the high mountain alps. 

“Yes, I can,” answered Robi. 

“Watch her carefully,” said old Herr Biner. “She’s a wise 
one and may get away from you.” 

“Oh, I’ll watch her carefully,” said Robi. He felt like a 
real cowherd now. 













In the morning he took his alpenstock and stamped up the 
path to the mountain pasture with the old cow. The pasture 
was not very far from the village. Robi took good care of the 
old cow for many days. And then one day the cow decided to 
run away. She walked off up the mountain and nothing that 
Robi could do would stop her. She walked on up the moun¬ 
tain until her old legs were tired. Then she lay down in a grassy 
spot and began to chew her cud. Robi could not make her get 
up and go home again. The little boy sat down beside her and 
if he had not been a cowherd, he would have cried. 

After waiting a long time he heard voices yodelling. 

“Allihoh-hoh-hoh!” 

It was Grandfather and old Herr Biner coming up after him 
and the cow. Robi was so ashamed. He was not a real cow¬ 
herd after all. 

Old Herr Biner and Grandfather made the old cow get up 
and go back down the mountain. When they said good-by at 


41 








Robi’s house, old Herr Biner held out two silver francs. Robi 
put his hands behind his back. 

“I’m not a good cowherd,” he said. 

But old Herr Biner laughed around his pipe and said, “You 
are a good cowherd. You have been a good cowherd for a long 
time and you have earned this money. But this old cow is a 
contrary old thing. She was lonesome and she just took it into 
her head to join all her friends in the mountains. It takes a 
grown-up cowherd to make her mind. You wait until next 
summer and then see.” 

Robi took the silver francs. 

“You’ve earned them. Just remember that,” said old Herr 
Biner. 

But those coins did not seem to jingle so loudly as some of 
the others when he put them in the old brown purse. After 
supper Robi kept his chin down on his chest and twisted his toes. 
Hanni was unhappy, too, because Robi was. 

Grandfather played some tunes on his accordion. He played 
the song of the cowherds. He swung his arms and he stamped 
his feet. Grandmother was singing with him and after a while 
Hanni and Robi were singing too. And the neighbors in the 







Grandfather played some tunes on his accordion 






















village were standing in their doorways and they were singing 
too: 


“No life like the cowherd’s, so happy and fine, 

Like the cowherd’s so fine. 

He walks and he plays in the fresh mountain wind, 
In fresh mountain wind. 

He goes with the sun to the alp in the morn. 

He shouts and he jodels to the song of cow bells. 

“He blows his long alp horn, it sings in the wind, 

It sings in the wind, 

And echoes from valleys to mountains again, 

To mountains again. 

So happy he feels in the free mountain air, 

And high on the mountain alp in freedom he dwells.” 


The song echoed back and forth over the lake. 

“Tomorrow I will get the big alpen horn from the cellar 
and play some tunes on that,” said Grandfather. 

Then Robi was so excited that he forgot all about his trou¬ 
bles with the old cow. 







i|^n J 










no life like the cowherd's so hap-py and fine.l ike the cou.herds so 


iMJi 























fine. He works and he plays in the fresh mountain wind, in 



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fresh mouo-tain wind. He goes with the sun to the alp in the 








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45 































































































THE GOATHERD 

The next day Grandfather carried his old alpen horn from 
the cellar and soaked it in water, so that he could make music 
on it. The horn was made of wood and was bound around with 
strips of wood fibre. It was a huge horn, longer even than 
Grandfather. 

That evening, when the sun was slipping down behind the 
mountains, he set the horn up on the ground before him and 
blew the evening call to the cows. His cheeks puffed out and 
his face was red, for it took all his breath to blow that long 
horn. The beautiful ringing notes of the horn sang out over the 
blue water of the lake and up into the pines. They echoed from 
rock to rock. 


46 




“That would bring any old cow home,” said Robi. 

“It is so beautiful that she should come right away, 
shouldn’t she?” said Hanni. 

“Did you really used to carry that big horn up to the alps in 
the spring and blow it for the cows?” asked Robi. 

“Yes, we really did when I was a young cowherd,” said 
Grandfather. “And the cows came the minute they heard it. 
But the small horns they use now are easier to blow.” 

Robi tried to blow the big horn, but he could not make 
even the least little squeak of a note. Not one. Only the breath 
of a grown man could make music on that horn. 

It was July now and Carl came down with cream again. 
The cows were leaving the middle pastures and climbing to the 
highest alp where they would stay until late summer. 

When Carl came into Grandfather’s yard, he found Robi 
and Hanni at the corner of the bake oven counting francs and 




coppers. Hanni put one hand over her mouth and tried to 
cover up the money with the corner of her apron. 

“Oh, Carl knows we are saving money for a secret,” said 
Robi. 

“Does he?” giggled Hanni. 

But Carl did not ask what she was giggling about. He gave 
each of them a huge bunch of alpen roses. 

“You might sell them to some tourists,” said Carl, “and 
add a little to your savings.” 

“Oh, thank you, Carl,” said Robi. “The English and Amer¬ 
ican people always like these roses. They are so lovely and 
red and pink and come from such high rocky places. Of course 
we can sell them.” 

“And there is something else,” said Carl. 

From deep down in his pocket he pulled some wood carv¬ 
ings. They were goats with stiff legs and high heads and stubby 
tails. He had been carving them while he was taking care of 
the cows on the alp. 




“I’m going to put some brown stain on them today and you 
can sell them, too.” 

“Oh, Carl,” cried Robi, “they are beautiful.” 

Hanni was giggling again. She had both hands clasped tight¬ 
ly over her mouth. They were clasped so tightly that her fingers 
were white. Her cheeks were red enough to burst. 

But Carl did not ask what the matter was. He just pulled 
one of her yellow braids and said, “Well, little one, I must put 
the stain on the goats.” 

“Do you know what I heard, Robi?” he said, as he was 
brushing the brown stain over the wooden goats. 

“No, what?” asked Robi. 

“You know Franz who cares for the village goats and takes 
them up to the pasture every day? I mean the ones that stay 
down here for the summer.” 

“Oh, yes, like our goat Grigga. She goes up with him ev¬ 
ery morning and stops off at our chalet in the evening when 
he brings them home,” said Robi. 

“Well, Franz is going up to the alp for a while. He’ll be 


49 




there a whole month. And his brother is too small to watch the 
goats all alone and needs another boy to help him. Franz 
wants you to be the one.” 

“Oh, I could do that,” said Robi. “I am sure I could do 
that.” 

“And, of course, you would earn some money for your 
purse.” 

“Yes,” cried Hanni. “We may have to get another one. 
This one is almost splitting, it is so full.” Then Hanni looked 
at Carl and covered up her mouth. 

So Robi helped to care for the village goats. Early in the 
morning he and Rudolf went up the hill through the village. 
Rudolf blew his little horn to call the goats. When the goats 
heard the horn, they ran out of their goat sheds with their 
bells tinkling. Grigga ran out from her shed and walked right 
beside Robi with her head and tail in the air. 

Rudolf and Robi had knapsacks on their backs. In the 





knapsacks were red and white handkerchiefs wrapped around 
bread and cheese with sometimes a piece of chocolate for their 
lunch. The goats ate all the morning in the bushy pasture and 
in the afternoon lay down and chewed their cuds. Robi and 
Rudolf ate their lunch when the sun was high in the sky. They 
sat beside a waterfall that came jumping and twisting down over 
the rocks. * 

When the sun had dropped down to the mountain tops, 
they blew the horn again to call the goats together and came 
down the mountain. Grigga stopped off at Robi’s house and 
went into the goat shed, while the others stopped at their own 
houses. Then the two goatherds went home to supper. They 
were good goatherds. 


51 



While Robi was busy watching the goats, Hanni was help¬ 
ing her grandfather with the haying. She could toss hay out to 
dry almost as well as Robi could. And she picked baskets of 
blueberries and carried them to the American ladies who were 
staying at the inn. 

When Franz came back from the alp and Robi had finished 
his goatherding, Robi and Hanni put all their silvers and coppers 
into the brown purse. It would not shut at all. So Grandmother 
gave them another purse. 

“That secret is getting bigger and bigger every day,” said 
Grandmother. 

“Oh, I just wish I could tell,” cried Hanni. “It is such a 
beautiful secret! I just wish I could tell it!” And she ran out 
of the chalet before the secret could get away from her. 





THE CITY OF BEARS 

A few days after Robi had finished his goat herding, the 
American ladies asked Hanni and Robi to go to Bern with them 
to spend the day. Robi and Hanni were so excited that they 
could scarcely think. To go to Bern, the beautiful city of Bern, 
the capital city of all Switzerland, and see the many things 
there were to see! 

Robi wore his best blue trousers and a real white shirt. He 
had a cap too. Hanni wore a bright red dress and no apron and 
her braids were stiffer than they had ever been before. There 
were blue bows on the ends of them. She had a hat too. Hanni 
felt strange without an apron. She folded her fat hands care¬ 
fully over her stomach. 


53 






































They went down to the boat dock with the American ladies. 
Here the village almost fell into the lake. From the dock they 
were to take the boat to Interlaken. The boat was a steamboat 
with side wheels to paddle the water and make it go. It went all 
around Lake Brienz from Interlaken to Ringgenberg, to the 
Village of the Giant’s Wood, to Giessbach Falls where the wa¬ 
ter fell down in seven cascades into the lake, to Brienz, the 
Wooden Village and back again to Interlaken. 

The white steamer swept up to the dock, a bell jangled and 
the gang plank was run out so that people could walk from the 
dock onto the boat. Robi and Hanni were in so much of a hurry 


54 







that they almost fell into the water. The whistle blew and off 
they went to Interlaken. The name of the steamer was the 
Brienz, and for some reason that made Hanni giggle again. The 
boat slid through the turquoise water of Lake Brienz. 












The bagpipe blower playing on his pipes 



































At Interlaken they climbed into a train and sat down oppo¬ 
site each other on the clean wooden seats. Robi sat by one 
window and Hanni sat by another and they never took their eyes 
from the things that were passing by outside. The train rattled 
along the shore of Lake Thun and past tiny towns, each one with 
only a few houses and a pointed white church tower. On the 
white towers were black-faced clocks that told the time. 

“It’s half-past nine,” said Robi. 

After they had reached the end of Lake Thun, they traveled 
for about an hour more and came at last to Bern. It was a large 
city with many church towers and more houses than all the 
towns they had passed through put together. Most of the houses 
were old and tall and had high gables. The swift River Aare, 
the same river that ran into Lake Brienz and from Lake Brienz 
into Lake Thun, looped in a deep gorge through the city and 
ran under many bridges. 

From the station Robi and Hanni walked with the two 
American ladies along Spital Street. The second stories of the 
houses hung out over the sidewalks and made arcades along the 
streets. There were arched openings on the edge of the side¬ 
walks and as Robi and Hanni walked in the arcades, they 
peeped out from under the arches onto the street. 

“Oh, look,” cried Hanni. “Look at the children!” 

The children were carved in stone. They were shown danc¬ 
ing around the fountain. On the top of the column in the center 
of the fountain was a bagpipe blower playing on his pipes. He 
was painted in gay colors. He had a goose at his feet and a 
monkey on his back. The Drudelsackpfeifer—that is what he 


57 













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THE CITY OF BEARS 


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was called in Bern. The fountain had been built by musicians 
many years ago. 

“Oh, I like him,” said Hanni. She wanted to sit right down 
on the edge of the fountain and stay there. 

“But there are the bears to see,” said Robi. 

“Oh, yes, the bears,” said Hanni, and she walked on look¬ 
ing back at the Drudelsackpfeifer and his dancing children. 

At the end of that street was Bear Square. Everything was 
bears in Bern. There were stone bears and wooden bears 
and painted bears. There were bears everywhere. There were 
even gingerbread bears in the bakery shop windows. One of 
the American ladies said that there was a legend telling why 
Bern was named after a bear. 

Robi had heard this legend but he always loved to hear it 
again. So he asked the American lady to tell it. 

“Once upon a time many years ago a band of knights went 
hunting in the forest by the River Aare. When the leader of 
the knights came to a high bluff where the river swept around 
in a sharp curve, he thought it would make a fine site for a 
castle. 

“ ‘Let us name it for the first animal we kill in our hunt.’ 

“And the first animal was a bear. The knight built his cas¬ 
tle on the bluff and the city that grew up around the castle 
was named Bern after the bear. 

“So the banner of the city has a bear on it with its red tongue 
showing and its right paw held up. And for over four hundred 
years, the city of Bern has kept a few bears in a large pit, be¬ 
cause it was the City of Bears.” 


60 


From Bear Square the American ladies and the children 
walked into Markt Gasse, Market Street. Here were other 
fountains. 

“Oh, I like that one,” cried Robi, pointing ahead. “That is 
a real Swiss soldier. Doesn’t he stand straight!” 

“I like the Drudelsackpfeifer better,” said Hanni. “I could 
almost hear his music.” 

“Wait, there is a funnier one in the next square,” said one 
of the American ladies. 

And in Kornhaus Place they found the Ogre. The people of 
Bern loved that statue best. Around the shaft in the center of 


61 






the fountain was a procession of bears. On the top was a huge 
bronze ogre eating fat bronze babies. Yes, he really was. 

Robi knew it was a joke and he laughed, but Hanni’s stiff 
braids stood out about straight in the air and her mouth drew 
up in a tight circle to cry. 

“Oh, it must be almost time for the clock to strike,” said 
one of the American ladies quickly. And before Hanni had 
time to cry, they hurried to the next street to see the clock. 









The Clock Tower 








































It was just twelve o’clock noon. In a tower under a pointed 
roof was a huge bronze clock. Against the wall under the clock 
was a bronze man holding an hour glass in his hand. On his 
left was a bronze dragon and on his right a bronze cock. When 
it was time for the clock to strike, the cock flapped his wings 
and cried “Cock-a-doodle-do!” Then two giants high up in the 
tower struck on a bell with hammers twelve times. The cock 
flapped his wings and cried again, “Cock-a-doodle-do.” A 
clown rang his bells and a procession of bears marched around. 


64 
















When the clock stopped striking, the old man turned over 
his hour glass, the procession stopped, the dragon wiggled his 
head and the cock crowed again, “Cock-a-doodle-do!” 

Robi clapped his hands and Hanni wanted to stay right there 
until the clock struck again to see if it did the same thing. 

“But there are the bears,” said Robi. 

“Oh, yes, the bears,” said Hanni. 

They walked on along the street under the arcades and 
across a high stone bridge over the River Aare. On the other 
side of the bridge was the bear pit, sunk many feet below the 
sidewalks. 

The American ladies bought some bunches of carrots and 
some strings of figs to feed the bears. Every one was feeding 
the bears. How the bears could eat all the carrots and figs that 
people threw down to them was more than Robi could see. 
















The bears caught the carrots as they fell and swallowed 
them in one gulp, tops and all. Snap, went their teeth together 
and swallow, went their throats, and the carrots were gone. They 
liked the figs even better and waved their paws at Hanni when 
she took too long to throw them down. They stood and begged 
with their red mouths wide open. 

There was a spiky tree in the middle of the pit for the bears 
to climb on. They could sit in the tree and still catch carrots. 

Then it was dinner time and the bears knew it. It was time 
for their meat. 

“How can any of them eat meat now after all those carrots 
and figs?” asked Robi. 


66 




But the bears thought they could. They went up to the 
doors of the pit and banged on them with their front feet. The 
doors were iron and they were loose. They made a great clank¬ 
ing noise when the bears beat on them. At last the keepers 
opened the doors and in scuttled the bears as fast as they could. 

“Now the baby bears will come out,” said the American 
ladies. 

“Oh, the babies,” cried Hanni. She had some figs still 
clutched in her hands. 

The keepers were trying to push the babies out. But only 
one would come. It was a funny little one with a short nose. It 
cried and tried to get back in the door. 

“I think it likes its keeper,” said Robi. 

“I think it is lonesome,” said Hanni. 

The baby bear sat in the middle of the pit crying. 

“Don’t cry, Baby,” said Hanni. “Here is a fig.” 

The bear sniffed around at the fig and then ate it slowly. 
It smelled of the carrots, but would not eat any. It wandered 
around the pit and went over to the door and cried to get in. 




Soon there was a loud pounding on the inside of the iron 
doors. The big bears had eaten their meat and were ready to 
come out again. 

“Do you suppose they can hold any more?” asked Robi. 
“They eat more than a herd of cows.” 

The keeper took in the baby bear and out came the big 
ones, scuffling over the stone floor and strutting on their hind 
legs begging. 

“Why, you greedy, greedy things!” cried Robi. “Still 
hungry?” 

“Let’s go and have our own dinner,” said the American 
ladies. They wiped as much of the sticky figs from Hanni’s 
hands and dress as they could. Then they went to a big res¬ 
taurant in a cellar where there was a barrel as big as a cheese 
house. 

“I would like some bread and cheese,” said Hanni, “and 
some milk.” 

But Robi thought he would try some of the strange city food 
and perhaps some of those nice cold ices that the American 
people like. 

After lunch Robi said, “Now I would like to see Barri.” 

So they went to the museum where the stuffed body of the 
famous St. Bernard dog, Barri, is shown. He was one of the 
bravest of the St. Bernards who watched the snowy passes near 
the St. Bernard monastery and rescued travelers lost in the 
deep snow. He had saved the lives of many, many men, by 
finding them in the snow and barking and howling until the 
monks came to carry them to the monastery. 


68 


After that the American ladies took the children across an¬ 
other bridge to the Kursaal, an open-air pavilion, to hear the 
music. Hanni fell asleep right away with her hat over one eye, 
but Robi kept his eyes wide open and looked out over the city 
at the mountains. There was the Jungfrau, the high mountain 
that he could see from Interlaken. 

It was called the Jungfrau, the Maiden, because it always 
wore a dress of dazzling white snow. Robi wondered if some day 
he could ride up in the railroad that led to the top of the Jung¬ 
frau. It was the highest railroad in Europe and ran for over 
four miles through the rocks of the Jungfrau and the two neigh¬ 
boring mountains, the Monk and the Ogre. Some day he would 
make that trip. The Jungfrau was the most beautiful mountain 
in all Switzerland, thought Robi. 






When the concert was over, it was almost time for the train. 
They walked back past the Drudelsackpfeifer playing to his 
children. And Robi and Hanni spent the half-francs that the 
American ladies had given them. They bought some gingerbread 
bears. They would be the very best things, they thought, to take 
back to Grandmother and Grandfather to show what a fine day 
they had had in Bern. 




DOWN FROM THE MOUNTAINS 

It was raining in the Valley of the Giant’s Wood. It was 
September. The wind was cold. 

“It is snowing up in the mountains,” said Grandfather. “The 
cows will come down tomorrow.” 

Early in the morning of the next day when the sun rose, 
Robi could see the snow in the evergreen trees on the moun¬ 
tains. And there was the sound of bells all around them. The 
air was filled with the jangling of bells, high-pitched bells and 
low-pitched bells, booming bells and tinkling bells. 

“The cows are coming,” cried Robi. “The cows are com¬ 
ing! Hear the bells!” 


71 







“Carl is coming,” cried Hanni, dancing up and down, her 
stiff braids flopping. “Carl is coming and now we can tell the 
secret!” 

“Oh, wait a minute, Hanni,” said Robi. “You must still 
keep it. Wait until I give you the sign. Just wait!” 

Hanni was holding her hands over her mouth. 

“Oh, when can I tell, when can I tell?” she mumbled be¬ 
tween her fingers. “When can I ever tell?” 

Robi stared at Hanni. She looked as if she would burst in 
just a minute. 

“Get the purses,” said Robi. 

Hanni ran to the living room, climbed up on the green tile 
stove and brought out the two old purses. They were both bulg- 










ing with silvers and coppers and they were tied tightly together 
with one of Hanni’s hair ribbons. There was a bow on the top. 

“Hold them in your apron, like this. Do you remember 
your speech?” 

“Oh, yes,” said Hanni. “Dear brother Carl, we—” 

“Don’t say it now,” said Robi. “Some one may hear you.” 

Hanni held her apron with one hand and covered her mouth 
with the other. She rolled her eyes at Grandmother and Grand¬ 
father when they came out to watch the cows, but they did not 
ask what the matter was. They knew it was the secret trying to 
get out. 

Down the path came the cows led by Berli, the beautiful 
cow with a bell as big as her head. There were wreaths of 
flowers around the horns of the cows and bunches of flowers 
in the pointed green hats of the herdsmen. 


73 



The boys and the men were all singing and the village people 
were coming from their homes and singing with them: 

“Across the meadows and over the lake, 

List to the horns, 

Echoing horns! 

Allihoh-hoh-hoh, 

Tra-la-la-la!” 


to t |J ■> r ->J I F f ff l 


li)hat mag-ic mu- sic the cow- herds a-uaWe, Hark to the horns, 
A-cross the meati-ou» and o-ver the lake, Hark to the horns, 


vf~K -|r—k- 1 

| — m • * m • * 

- 

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l . | J J 

r fIHIH 

LW D b . IT a ^ 

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1 i 

w -T-— =s- — i 


—-- 


Ech-o - i rig horns! Far oer the val - leys and moim-tains, the 
Ech-o- ing hornsl 


rP buhh kk ft h t 1 k L 1 1 h h Hn 



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Sor^df the clear Al-pen horn, the song c# the clear Al-pen horn l 


The cows all lowed when they saw their cow houses in the 
valley, and the goats bleated. 

“Allihoh-hoh-hoh!” yodelled the cowherds. 

“Alli-hoh-hoh-hoh!” yodelled the people of the village. 

The cows were fat and sleek and happy. The cowherds were 
as brown as the cows. 

“Allihoh-hoh-hoh!” cried the people. “The cows are home, 
the cows are home!” 


74 







































Carl crunched down the path beside his grandfather’s cows. 
The cows had a wreath hanging on each horn. Carl had a big 
cheese strapped to his back. The other cheeses were brought 
down on sleds covered with fir branches, but this cheese was 
his very own cheese and he was seeing that it came safely down 
the mountain. He would sell it for money for the carving 
school. 

Grandfather s cows came in at the gate with Carl and went 
to the cow house. They walked thoughtfully into their stalls. 
They could smell the hay that Grandfather had stacked in the 
hay loft. 

Carl read the words that were carved on the wall: 

HEALTHY COWS AND GOOD PASTURE 
MAKE RICH CHEESE AND BRING HAPPINESS. 

The family all went into the kitchen and sat around the big 
table for dinner. There was a bunch of asters in the center. 

The floor was scrubbed until it was almost white. Robi had 
done that. And the copper pans hanging against the wall were 
polished so brightly that they shone like so many setting suns. 
Hanni had done that. 

They ate their dinner of rye bread and milk and cheese. 
There was meat and pancakes, too, to celebrate. At least, 
Grandfather and Grandmother ate their dinner. Carl ate about 
two dinners. He was hungry after that long tramp down the 
mountain. Robi could eat only half a dinner and Hanni could 
not eat any at all. 

That might have been because one of her hands was busy 


75 


holding something tightly in her apron and the other one hold¬ 
ing her mouth shut. She did not dare open it lest the secret 
pop out. Her shoulders were jiggling up and down to keep the 
giggles in. Sometimes the giggling would burst out. 

Robi looked worried. He wished dinner would be over. But 
no one asked Hanni what the matter was. At last they had all 
finished and Grandmother carried away the dishes. 

Carl took the savings box that he had brought from the shelf 
in the cow house and began to count his money. He piled up 
the five-franc pieces in one pile and the francs in another pile 
and the half-francs in another. He had been saving for a long 
time. There were a lot of francs. 

“Will it be enough?” said Carl. 

“We’ll see,” said Grandfather. “You count and I’ll set it 
down.” 

Carl counted. There were only three five-franc pieces, but 
there were more francs and more half-francs. And there were 
piles of coppers. Grandfather set down the sums and they 
guessed at what Carl had earned that summer and put that 
down too. Then Grandfather began to add them up. 

Hanni was whispering something to herself. Her face was 
as red as the hair ribbons on her twisting yellow braids. Both 
hands were clutching the purses in her lap. 

Robi raised his hand. That was the sign to tell the secret. 

Hanni jumped up from her stool and stood by the table. 
Her eyes looked bigger than Lake Brienz. She opened her 
mouth to make her speech, but nothing came out of it. Her 
mouth just stayed open and her eyes grew bigger. 


76 



She opened her mouth to make her speech 








Then, “Here!” cried Hanni. She handed Carl the two old 
purses tied together with the pink hair ribbon and disappeared 
under the table. 

“For the carving school,” said Robi. He wanted to go un¬ 
der the table too, but he was a cowherd and could not. 

Carl held the two purses in his hand and looked from Robi 
to the place where Hanni’s blue eyes were peeping over the 
table top opposite him. There was something the matter with 
Carl’s voice too. He could not shake it out of his throat. 
Grandfather was clearing his throat and Grandmother was 
smiling so hard that there were tears in her eyes. 

“Count it,” said Hanni from under the table. 

Carl sat down and untied the pink hair ribbon and folded it 
carefully. Then he emptied the two purses on the table. The 
coppers and the silver pieces rang on the table like little goat 


78 



bells. Carl piled up the francs and the half-francs and the cop¬ 
pers and counted them. Grandfather set them down and added 
them up. Then he added his half of the school money. 

And there was enough for the carving school! 

Hanni began to clap her hands and jump up and down. Her 
braids stood on end. Robi was grinning so widely that it 
seemed that he would never be able to get his mouth shut 
again. 











“Hurrah!” cried Carl. “Now I can go to the carving school. 
This very year I can go and learn to carve better cows and peo¬ 
ple and goats. Hurrah! Oh, thank you, Robi, and thank you, 
Hanni. I can go. I can go!” 

“Allihoh-hoh-hoh!” cried Robi and Hanni and Grandfather 
and Grandmother all together. “Allihoh-hoh-hoh!” And ev¬ 
ery one in that chalet was so happy, even the cows and Grigga 
the goat, because Carl could go to the carving school in the 
Wooden Village. 

“Allihoh-hoh-hoh!” 

“Tra-la-la-la!” 





























































